


Classics

by like_a_stray



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Fluff and Smut, Frerard, M/M, Model! Frank, Photographer! Gerard, artist! Gerard, petekey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-10 18:48:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13507623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/like_a_stray/pseuds/like_a_stray
Summary: Frank is a well-known model known for his gorgeous looks and risqué photoshoots who is desperate for someone to understand him and look past his facial features. Gerard is an art school student who gets assigned to photograph Frank and he's astonished. They meet and Frank is intrigued by the mysterious young man and why he seems to be so secretive.





	1. As Long As It's About Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I'm back with my habit of starting a new fic before I finished my current one. (I have three unfinished at the moment.)

❀Frank's POV ❀

I was sitting on a black chair, my gaze fixed on the wall next to me. A cigarette was poised between my index and middle fingers, smoke curling off of it and around me. The walls around me were white, creating a stark contrast with my dark hair and black clothes. I heard a camera shutter click but I held my position.

I had been modeling for these people for almost three hours already.

"Good. Now take a drag and look at the camera. Try going for a tired look with half-lidded eyes." The director of the photoshoot yelled.

I did as he asked, turning my head towards the camera and taking a slow drag, inhaling the nicotine deeply. I exhaled the smoke through my lips, biting my bottom one once I had finished.

"You're doing great. Take five, everyone." The director praised.

I stood up, relieved to be able to move. Taking another drag of the cigarette, I glanced around the room at the several people.

There was the director, the lighting crew, the photographer, the makeup artists and styling crew, and a few random people who just wanted to watch.

I didn't even have time to finish my cigarette when the makeup crew ran up to me and began to poke and prod at my face.

My cigarette was taken from me and I was about to protest when the makeup artists began to shout orders at me.

"Close your eyes."

"Now open them."

"Purse your lips."

"Look up."

I did what the artists told me. They had sharp pencils near my eyes and I did not want to anger them.

A small redheaded girl was gently applying some foundation to my face with a soft brush. A tall girl with dark hair was drawing eyeliner onto my eyelid while another dabbed some gloss onto my lips.

Someone behind me was ruffling my hair and messing it up in a way that I hoped looked at least a little sexy.

But mostly, I just wanted to finish my goddamn cigarette. What that too much to ask?

"Back to your positions!" I heard the director call. I turned to sit in the chair when the director stopped me.

"Stay standing." He demanded.

I nodded and a crew member ran behind me and picked the chair up and brought it away from the set.

The director had returned to his chair.

"So, we're going to be doing the striptease segment of the shoot. We're going to need lots of lip biting and bedroom eyes. Start with your shirt." He barked.

I nodded and closed my eyes for a brief moment, trying to develop a seductive persona before I started. The photoshoot was for some male cologne ad. I don't know how having attractive men stripping meant cologne, but it sold things.

Sex sells.

I opened my eyes and began to slowly lift my shirt, biting my lip as my tattooed digits curled around the hem and exposed the swallows on my hips and stomach.

The photographer went crazy, taking as many pictures as they could in the few seconds my skin was exposed.

I pulled my shirt up more, my toned stomach seemingly the center of attention at the moment.

"Good. Now pull your shirt off. Slowly."

I gripped the fabric slightly tighter, slowly tugging the shirt off of my chest and over my head.

I made sure my gaze was dark as I stared down the camera, tossing my shirt to the side.

"Jeans now."

I kept my gaze on the camera as I unbuttoned the expensive jeans I was wearing. I pulled the waistband down a bit, exposing the gray band on the top of my black boxers.

The camera shutter flickered a few times and I continued to take the jeans off, my tan, tattooed legs now exposed.

I was fucking cold.

"Hook your thumb over the waistband of the boxers."

I did just that and I pulled them down slightly, the skin on my hip now on display.

"Bring your hand up to the back of your head and tug on your hair a little."

I placed my hand on the back of my hair and tugged at my long, dark brown locks.

I bit my lip harder and managed to stop a groan from escaping my lips.

I was only wearing boxers. Getting a boner now would not be very good.

"Chin up a little more. Make it easier to see that chest piece." 

That's why many people hired me. The tattoos made me stand out from other models; they made ads and commercials more memorable.

"Alright, Frank. That was great. You can get dressed in your normal clothes now. Thank you, everyone." The director called, standing up and smiling.

Before I got to get dressed, the makeup crew dragged me away and sat me in a chair.

The girls wiped the makeup off of my skin with a wipe and then began to wash it and massage some kind of moisturizer into my skin.

Once their hands had left me, I stood up and smiled at them. "Thank you," I said. They all smiled and the small redheaded girl blushed.

She was quite cute. But I knew she only wanted me for my looks.

Nobody ever wanted to get to know me. Everyone was obsessed with my face and body, not my personality.

I smiled at them before walking back to my dressing room.

My own clothes were waiting there for me, folded neatly in a chair.

I grabbed them and pulled my shirt over my head and my jeans over my legs. I grabbed my beloved, worn leather jacket and put it on. I glanced at the large, full-body mirror against the wall before walking out of the dressing room.

"Hey, Frank!" I heard. I turned to see the director.

"We've already sent your payment to your agent. She'll give it to you when you see her. You did great! We're going to sell so much cologne." He gushed.

I gave him a smile. "Thank you. It was a pleasure to model for you today." I held out my hand for him to shake and he took it.

He shook my hand for a little too long with some very awkward eye contact.

He finally let go of my hand after a few agonizingly slow moments.

"You're welcome. Your agent will show you the pictures."

I smiled at him one last time and walked out of the large building.

I really needed a smoke.

As soon as I was outside the building I grabbed my cigarettes from my pocket, pulling my lighter out as well. I leaned against the brick wall and pulled a cigarette out and lit it quickly.

I pressed it to my lips and inhaled, already feeling at peace with just one drag.

I played with the wheel of my lighter, watching the city around me.

There was a woman pushing a stroller who gave me a dirty look as she walked past.

I sighed. People hated me at first glance. Nobody ever gives me a chance.

I felt my phone buzzing in the back pocket of my jeans and I pulled it out.

Already knowing who it was, I answered the call and held the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I asked, taking another slow drag.

"Hey, Frankie. You made almost ten today." Lindsey said.

Ten didn't mean ten dollars, it meant ten thousand.

I made a lot, but I had a tight schedule and today was my only free day. They really wanted me, though, so Lindsey gave them a choice: Pay me three hundred per hour or I don't model.

She's a badass who gets what she wants. That's why I love her so much.

"That's great, Linds. Really. I'm just exhausted. I need a drink and some sleep." I answered.

She scoffed. "You have to meet up with the new assistant, remember? You can't be hungover."

I smirked.

"Try me."

"Frank Anthony Iero Jr. I will take your dogs and ship them to Antartica." She said.

I giggled. "But seriously, Linds. I'll be okay. I promise not to get drunk tonight."

She sighed. "You better not."

I smiled. "I won't. Cross my heart 'n hope to die."

"I have to go. Bye, Frankie."

"Bye, Lindsey," I said, pressing the  _end call_  button on my phone.

I shoved my phone back into my pocket and took another long drag.

"Um, excuse me?"

I turned to see a young man walking towards me.

"Can I have a cigarette?" He asked.

The man looked young, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. He had a cute, upturned pixie nose and a soft jawline. His black hair framed his pale face, his eyelids covered in what looked like black eyeshadow. I furrowed my eyebrows. "How old are you, kid?" I asked, reaching into the pocket of my coat to get the box out.

"Twenty-two." He answered.

"I'll take your word for it," I muttered, lighting the cigarette and handing it to him.

He smiled. "Thanks. Sick ink, by the way."

"Thank you. You got any?" I wondered.

"No. I'm like, deathly afraid of needles, so I don't have any of my own." He giggled and took a drag of his cigarette.

"Maybe one day." He said softly, breathing smoke out along with his words.

"Maybe," I replied. "I have so many that the I'm used to the pain."

He smiled and took a long drag, breathing it out before talking again. "What do your hands say?"

I beamed. Talking about my tattoos was one of my favorite things to do. "Well, my knuckles say Halloween," I put my fists side-by-side, the orange letters coming together to spell out the word. "That's my birthday," I added. I laced my fingers together, showing my bookworm tattoo.

"Whoa." The boy breathed out along with some smoke. He reached out, brushing his delicate, thin fingers along my hands.

He recoiled his hand after a moment, his face tinged pink. "S-sorry,"

I smiled at him. "That's okay, um..."

"I'm Gerard." He said, flashing me a smile after his words. He talked out of one side of his mouth and his smile was kind of crooked, but it looked cute.

"I'm Frank." I was genuinely happy that he didn't seem to know who I was.

I heard American Idiot by Green Day start to blare and Gerard rolled his eyes.

"Sorry." He mouthed to me before answering his phone.

"Why the fuck are you calling me?" He snapped.

I could hear the voice of another man yelling through the phone.

They argued for a few minutes when Gerard said, "Bye, Mikey." In the midst of the other man's shouting.

He hung up, the noise stopping.

"Sorry, that was just my obnoxious brother." He explained.

I smiled at him. "Anyway, I gotta go. It was nice meeting you, Frank." He said, returning the smile.

"Bye, Gerard," I said. He glanced at me once more before walking away.

I knew that I wasn't going to forget that smile anytime soon.


	2. Oh Darling, I know What You're Going Through

❀Gerard's POV ❀

_I remembered how perfect things were._

_How we were the perfect couple._

_How I was so madly head-over-heels for him._

_How I loved him._

_But it was another lonely night. A night that he would go out to a bar and come back with some pretty, slim girl._

_They would fuck. And I would hear it._

_Every night I would cry myself to sleep, hoping that he would find me and hold me and tell me that everything was going to be okay._

_I craved human contact: kisses, hugs, cuddles, hand-holding, anything. But it only really mattered to me if it was from a boyfriend._

_It was only when he hit me the first time that I swore never to love anyone again._

_At least not in a romantic way._

I woke up, tears streaming down my face and sobs escaping my lips.

Why was I not good enough for him? What could I have done? Why didn't he love me?

I buried my face in my hands and heard the door open.

"Gee,"

It was Patrick, my best friend since third grade. I trusted him with my life, but I never told anyone about how Ashton used to abuse me.

Ever.

I felt arms wrap around me and I was tugged against Patrick's soft chest. He was my cuddle buddy when I needed one. Mikey needed sleep and usually, when I woke up crying at three A.M, Patrick was the one to comfort me.

"It's okay. You're okay," He soothed, stroking my hair back.

I loved Patrick but I didn't want to be in a relationship with him. It's not that he wasn't attractive, because he was the cutest person I knew, but I just didn't like him in that way.

His warm hands were running through my hair, gently detangling the knots in it.

"It's okay, Gee. He wasn't worth it."

I told them about how Ashton cheated on me and about our breakup, but that was it.

"Patrick, I... he..." I choked out through my tears, pressing my face tight against Patrick's bare chest.

"Shh, honey. You're okay. Everything's going to be alright. Try and get some sleep, okay? I'll stay with you." He muttered.

I nodded and Patrick laid me down on my bed, plopping next to me and covering me with my blankets.

He kissed my forehead and continued to stroke my head.

"Do you want me to sing?" He asked and I nodded eagerly.

Patrick had the voice of an angel. It was beautiful and smooth and he had a crazy vocal range.

"I got troubled thoughts, and the self-esteem to match," He began softly, and after a few moments, I was already falling asleep.

❀

I groaned softly as the sunlight filtered through the windows, filling the room with bright light. Patrick was curled against me, his cheek smushed against the top of my head.

"Gerard! Get the fuck up! You have work!" I heard Pete yell, banging on my door a few times. "You too, Pat. You're not off the hook because you wanted to be nice last night."

Patrick's eyes fluttered open. "The answer is sixty-four!"

I giggled and he rubbed his eyes. "Did you have the school dream again?" I asked. He nodded.

Patrick got dreams about normal, everyday things. High school, cooking, watching Star Wars with me, Mikey, and Pete. They were always completely normal; no drugged ponies prancing around then being stabbed by Leonardo DiCaprio.

My dreams were fucking weird as hell.

"Ugh, It was trigonometry, too. I hated that fucking class." He muttered.

"Preach!" I heard Pete scream from the other side of the door.

Mikey, Pete, Patrick and I had lived together since Mikey was eighteen. We all went to the same college, even though our classes were at different times.

Patrick turned to me and smiled. "Hey. Are you okay?" He gently stroked his thumb over my cheekbone. I returned the smile and replied, "Yeah. Thanks for helping me last night." He kissed my forehead. "No problem."

"Alright lovebirds! Thin walls, loud sobs, bitches!" Pete screamed again, poking his head into my room and flipping us off.

I chucked a pillow at his head. "Fuck off!" Patrick yelled, giggling when Pete flailed wildly in an attempt to avoid the pillow.

"So..." Patrick started once Pete had left. "Have you met anyone?"

I flushed a bright red. "What makes you think that?"

"Well, yesterday, when you came home, you had this awestruck look in your eyes." He teased.

"I just met this really attractive guy. I got him to give me a cigarette." I answered.

"Ooh, describe him to me," He urged.

"He, um... had tattoos. He was shorter than me and his hair was dark." I said.

"So he's cute? _And_  he gave you a cigarette? He's a keeper. I like him already." Patrick crooned.

I scoffed and got out of bed, throwing my shirt over my head.

"It's fucking hot," I mumbled. I heard Patrick giggle from the bed.

"Jesus Christ is my Lord and savior!" Pete screeched from the hall.

"Shut up Pete!"

"This. Is. Sparta!" Pete yelled and there was a loud crash.

I walked over to my door and poked my head out. I dodged the flying object hurtling towards my face and made my way into the kitchen.

I was grabbed by my shoulders and I squealed, whirling around to face who it was.

It was Pete, to no surprise. I shoved the small tattooed man off of me and walked to the cereal cabinet.

I picked up my box of Frosted Flakes and took a spoon and bowl out of the drawer.

I peered into the box.

It was empty, and I knew for a fact that I did not leave it that way.

"Pete, you motherfucker!" I screamed, throwing myself at the younger man.

I talked him onto the ground and straddled his hips, gripping his shoulders tightly.

"You ate my Frosted Flakes," I growled. "Now I'm going to dump your Fruity Pebbles in the garbage and you get to watch. Sound fun?"

"Please. Gee, don't do this." He begged.

I smirked and got off of him, dashing towards the cabinet and grabbing the Fruity Pebbles.

"No!" Pete yelled, running towards me.

"What the fuck are you guys doing?"

We both whirled around to see Patrick. He had a pair of pink pajama pants with teddy bears on them and a black shirt on.

He pointed at the box of cereal I was holding above the garbage with a Superman band-aid covered finger. "Don't waste food."

"And you." He said, pointing at Pete. "Don't eat Gerard's cereal."

We both nodded and hung our heads in mock shame.

"Yes, Mother Patrick," Pete said.

I managed to suppress a giggle, only snorting softly.

"Is something funny?" Patrick asked.

I shook my head, brushing my dark hair behind my ears.

"Anyway, I gotta go shower. I have work in a few hours." I said, lifting my head and patting Pete on the shoulder.

He glared at me and I smiled before walking away and into the bathroom.

I hated not showering. I liked feeling clean and unlike most people my age, I showered daily.

I started the water and waited for it to turn hot before I got undressed. I took my body wash, conditioner, and shampoo from my drawer in the sink before getting into the shower.

I briefly considered jerking off but decided against it. I was tired and would probably pass out if I had an orgasm. And I had to work today and that wouldn't be good.

As soon as my body was wet I began to lather on a thick layer of body wash. I washed my hair as well, deciding to get it out of the way. I rinsed the suds off of my body and out of my hair before I put conditioner in.

I grabbed my razor and the bottle of shaving cream from the small shelf in the shower. I hated shaving but I hated having body hair more. I rubbed the thick, white cream onto my legs before drawing the razor over them quickly. I did the same to my underarms before rinsing the remnants of the cream off.

I showered in a record time of ten minutes, not counting drying off and applying lotion. I wrapped the towel around my waist tightly. Living in a small apartment with three other men, it's not like they haven't seen my dick before. I just preferred for it not to be hanging out 24/7.

I made it into my room without getting my towel stolen and I dressed quickly. I needed coffee.

"Goddamn you, Mikey." I hissed under my breath when I realized that he had stolen my beloved Misfits shirt.

I settled for a Black Flag one and a pair of black skinnies.

When I walked back into the kitchen, there was already a pot of coffee waiting. Patrick was such a sweetheart.

I knew it was him who made it because Mikey and Pete were assholes who made coffee only for themselves.

I poured some of it into a mug and mixed a bit of cream and sugar into it.

Time for work.

❀

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but we don't sell-"

I was cut off by a woman speaking to me in rapid-fire Japanese. I don't think she spoke English and I was trying to be patient with her. She yelled something loudly and flipped me off before walking out of the art store.

Okay.

I sighed and rubbed my temples.

"You okay, Gerard?" I heard. I turned around to see Ray, my boss, looking concerned.

"Em, yeah. I just need a smoke." I admitted. He smiled at me. "You can take a break. I'll cover your shift, okay?" He asked. I nodded eagerly, grabbing my jacket before heading outside.

I went to my usual spot. It was right outside of this modeling place, where I met that guy yesterday.

I saw him approaching me and I smiled.

He grinned and waved. "Hey." He said once he had reached me.

"Hi. I have my own cigs today, so I won't be stealing yours anymore." I replied with a small smile.

He giggled and tucked his hair behind his ear with his tattooed fingers.

"Your name's Frank, right?" I asked. The silence was a bit awkward.

"Yeah."

We sat in silence for a few more moments, smoking our cigarettes when I felt a flash of panic run through me.

I forgot to take my meds.

"Oh, God," I mumbled. "Shit."

My breathing was becoming labored just from thinking about the fact that I  _forgot to take my fucking meds._

On top of that, things had been pretty tight on money and I was taking a break from work. I had a lot of pent up stress and anxiety that seemed to be flowing out all at once.

My hands started shaking and I tried to force myself to stay calm.

"Are you okay?" Frank asked me, his brow creased in worry

I tried to reply but all that came out was a choked noise.

"I forgot... to..." I wheezed out in between desperate gulps of air, my chest feeling tight and my limbs heavy.

"T-take my meds." I rushed out, trying to take deep breaths.

I thought about the little orange bottles sitting on my windowsill, untouched. I let out a soft whimper and buried my face in my hands, my cigarette dropped and forgotten.

I felt a gentle hand on my arm, gently rubbing my shoulder. "Just try and breathe for me, okay? Just try. Focus on breathing." I identified the voice as Frank. I was surprised that he hadn't abandoned me yet.

I nodded and tried to pull a breath into my lungs, but my anxiety was through the roof. It felt like the world was crumbling around me. I felt lightheaded and dizzy and I clung to Frank's arm. I needed something to hold on to; something to ground me.

"I'm here. It's okay, Gerard." He murmured as I trembled, letting out a sob. I was so scared. My panic attacks never came on this quickly, but this one seemed to come out of nowhere.

"Shh, It's okay. Breathe."

"I can't, I can't, I can't... I can't do it. I c-can't." I said in a rush, my words cut off by desperate gasps for breath.

"Yes, you can. Breathe." Frank's voice was soft. "Just try. Just try to breathe."

My vision blurred and his voice seemed to fade out. I could only hear the sound of my own heartbeat and gasps for air.

My head was spinning and my lungs felt like they were going to explode.

"I wanna try something with you, 'kay? Alright. Can you name five things you hear?" Frank asked.

"I-I hear y-you, uh... my breathing. C-cars, p-people talking, a-a-and, um, people walking." I answered.

"Okay. Four things you feel."

"Your hands. Your sw-sweatshirt. I feel the gr- the ground under my feet, and the-the w-wind."

"Three things you smell."

"Gasoline. Your cologne, a-and some kind of food." 

"Two things you see."

I forced my eyes open. "Your eyes and..." I turned my vision toward the ground. "The street."

"You're doing so good. Now one thing you taste."

"Blood. I bit my tongue at some point."

I noticed how I was no longer violently shaking. I was still panting softly and my heartbeat felt fast, but I was no longer in a state of blind panic.

"It's okay. It's over now, you're okay." A hand was gently stroking my back.

"Frank." I choked out, my eyes welling with tears. 

"It's okay. I'm here," Frank murmured, one of his hands on my right shoulder and the other curled on my back.

A sob escaped my lips and I lowered my head, clamping my hands over my mouth. I heard Frank sigh and I was pulled against his firm chest, his warm arms wrapping tightly around me.

"Shh, s'okay. I got you." He soothed, rubbing my back.

I had just met this man and he was fucking hugging me. I always did trust people way too easily.

I knew it must look weird; me sobbing into the chest of a heavily tattooed man on a street corner in the bitter cold, but I didn't care. Frank was warm and I needed comfort.

After a lot of dirty looks and sideways glances from passing strangers, I managed to calm down and pull away from Frank's warm embrace.

"What'd you do?" I asked. Frank gave me a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"The whole, 'four things you see' thing. I've never heard of that."

"Oh. I used to have panic attacks a lot when I was little, and my mom used to do that with me. I would just wake up in a panic sometimes. It got really bad, but they put me on medication and I'm a lot better now. I haven't had one in more than ten years." He said, smiling at me.

"Speaking of medication," He spoke, suddenly slightly stern. "We should get you home to take yours. What do you need them for?" 

"Antidepressants and my allergy meds. I'm surprised I haven't had a sneezing fit yet." I said shyly, directing my gaze downwards, staring at my black Vans against the gray and white cobblestone sidewalk.

"I'm gonna walk you home." He stated in a tone that meant it was not up for discussion. "I wanna make sure that you make it back safe."

I nodded and we began to walk back to my apartment. I guided Frank when he needed it.

Once we arrived at my apartment, I fished into my coat pocket and grabbed my keyring. I fumbled with it for a moment, trying to pick out the one for my apartment.

I finally singled it out and jammed it into the lock, turning it and opening the door.

I turned to Frank and smiled at him.

"Thank you. For everything," I said, smiling at him.

"It's no problem. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah? At our usual place?" He asked. I nodded. "Yeah. Bye, Frank."

"Bye, Gerard."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP Sweet Pea. I cried when I heard that she passed away and I send my love and support to Frank and his family.


	3. Knock Once For The Father

❀Frank's POV❀

I watched Gerard walk back in his apartment. He smiled at me before he closed the door. I felt bad, I really did. I knew exactly how it felt to have a panic attack and they were not fun, so I wanted to make sure that Gerard got through his.

I rubbed my temples and sighed before walking to the stairs in the apartment building.

It took me a while to get home and I was about a half hour late. Lindsey always gave me specific times and if I wasn't there at the  _exact_  time then she would have my head.

Traffic was horrible, and I almost got lost trying to find my car. I was sure Lindsey would understand when I told her that I helped someone through a panic attack.

Hopefully.

My dogs were barking loudly. I could hear my German Shepherd's deep, loud bark and the quieter yips from my smaller dogs.

I put the password into the deadbolt on the door and heard the soft beep. I stepped inside, toeing my boots off and hanging my jacket on the coat rack.

I knew what was going to happen and almost on cue, I heard it.

"Daddy!"

I turned to see my daughter running towards me, tripping over her feet and stumbling a bit. She was very young, only two years old, and she was a total klutz.

Her clumsiness had something to do with the fact that she had a prosthetic leg from the knee down.

She lost her right leg in a car accident. Both of her parents were killed. She was only six months old, and they had to amputate her leg or she would die. They managed to save her left leg but she has to wear a huge, clunky brace or she can't walk.

"Hi, Haven," I called, crouching down so that the toddler could run into my arms.

She fell, catching herself on her hands before pushing herself up and walking towards me.

"Hi, Dada. You're late. 'Sey is gonna get mad." She said, placing her tiny hands on her hips. Two years old and already a diva. Damn.

She must have Heard Lindsey shouting about me not getting home at exactly 4:00. Haven couldn't pronounce Lindsey's name, so she called her "Sey" or "Lin."

I adopted Haven a year ago, and I loved her more than anything.

"I can deal with Lindsey. C'mere, I wanna give you a hug." I responded. She complied and toddled towards me. I lifted the small girl into my lap and she hugged my neck.

"I missed you," She said into my collarbones. I gently stroked her thin, dark hair. "I missed you too. I'm sorry, angel. I had to go to work. And it took me a while to get home after that."

"I wish you wouldn't leave."

I sighed. I was going to see if Haven had separation anxiety because whenever I would leave to go to work she would lose it. She would cry and scream and cling to me and I always felt so bad.

"I know." I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "But I have to, angel."

I pulled away so that I could see her face. Her large, blue eyes were staring up at me expectantly.

"Come on. I'm gonna get dinner started." I said, standing up with Haven in my arms.

"What're we havin'?" She asked, her high-pitched voice slightly slurred from her young age.

"What do you want?"

"Mac n' cheese." She stated, her tiny hands grabbing my hair.

"Alright," I answered, setting her on her tiny booster seat.

"So why were you late?" She asked once I had started to boil the water.

"I met up with a friend. He wasn't feeling too good so I brought him back to his house." I rifled through the cabinet, searching for the box of Kraft Mac n' Cheese.

"Can I meet him?"

"Maybe one day, angel." I cooed, placing the cardboard box on the counter and walking back over to her.

"Dada, the doggies are bein' loud," Haven said.

"I know. I'm gonna let them out after I get your food started, okay?" The dogs were being loud, barking and howling.

After a few minutes, the water started to boil and I poured the pasta into it, stirring it with a wooden spoon.

"Alright, Hav. I'm gonna let the dogs out and I'll be right back, okay?" Haven nodded and I rushed to the porch.

I pushed the screen door open and the dogs went wild, barking and jumping in their kennels.

"Alright, guys," I said, opening the door leading to our fenced yard and letting the dogs out.

I returned to the kitchen and went back to the stove, stirring the pasta.

"It's almost done, angel," I called.

I turned the heat off and took the pot over to the sink where I strained the pasta. I poured it back into the pot and mixed the milk, butter, and cheese powder through the pasta.

"Daddy," Haven whined. "I'm hungry..."

"It's your lucky day, then, because it's ready," I said, grabbing a metal serving spoon and two forks from the drawer.

"Yay!" She cheered. I smiled and put half a scoop of mac n' cheese into her small blue bowl and placed it in front of her. She made grabby hands at the fork.

I raised an eyebrow. "What do we say?" Haven sighed. "Can I please have the fork?" She asked. I smiled and handed it to her.

I served myself some of the pasta and sat in the chair next to Haven.

She held the fork incorrectly but it seemed to be working because she was shoveling the artificially colored pasta into her mouth.

I giggled. "Slow down. You'll choke." She sighed and began to eat slower.

We finished dinner before Lindsey came storming into the kitchen.

"Frank, you were almost an hour late!  _An hour!_ " She exclaimed. I glanced at her. "And what are you gonna do about it?" I asked.

"You can explain to me why you were late." She crossed her arms.

"You know that kid I met yesterday? He had a panic attack and I helped him back to his apartment." I explained, beginning to rinse the pot I used to cook.

I heard Lindsey sigh. "Is he okay?" She asked. I nodded. "He was fine."

"At least that's a valid excuse." She said. I heard a loud giggle and looked over to Lindsey. She was holding Haven, bouncing her gently.

"Lin! S-stop!" She screeched, laughing. I set the pot down in the sink and walked over to them, taking Haven and holding her against my chest.

"I'm gonna go get this little monkey cleaned up," I said to Lindsey. She nodded. "Don't take too long."

I brought Haven into the bathroom and turned the tap on.

I sat her down on the toilet lid and began to remove her prosthetic leg. I undid the straps on her thigh and pulled it off, making sure that it didn't scratch her.

I picked her up and set her in the bathtub. She grabbed the bottle of bubble bath from the side of the tub and gave it to me. I poured in a bit, watching it begin to bubble.

Haven squealed and began to move the bubbles towards her. I smiled and gave her the dolphin bath toys and a little plastic boat.

She played for a while, making the dolphins talk to each other and ride in the boat. "Okay, Hav. Time to clean up," I said, pouring some of the bubble bath onto my hands and rubbing them together.

She kept on fidgeting and didn't stay still until a line of shampoo ran into her eye. She screamed and flailed and I had to hold a cold washcloth on her eye until she calmed down.

I lifted her out of the tub once she was done, rinsing the bath toys of soap and putting them back in the bin next to the tub. She yawned and I grabbed her yellow duck towel and wrapped it around her. I put the little hood over her head and she laughed. I picked her up and carried her to her room.

"Can we watch Max and Ruby?" She asked. I nodded and grabbed her fluffy purple onesie from her dresser.

I put the show on and went outside to bring the dogs back in.

I returned to the couch and Haven was singing along to the theme song of Max and Ruby, the bunnies dancing along the screen.

I had so many questions about the show. Why did they live alone? Wouldn't their grandmother alert child support and get them placed in foster care or become their legal guardian? Why did two children own a house? Why did nobody else question these things?

I decided to stop overthinking it and just watch the show. Lindsey had retreated to her room and was probably asleep or talking to her girlfriend.

Lindsey noticed me when my old band Pencey Prep played at a bar. I was nineteen and fresh out of high school. She approached me and told me that she worked at a modeling agency and that she thought I had potential. We've been best friends ever since and she was a mother figure to Haven. I trusted Lindsey with my life.

Haven giggled and I glanced at the screen. The show was almost over. I sighed and looked at her.

The episode ended, the credits beginning to play. Finally. Haven reached her small arms out to me and wrapped them around my neck. "Time for night-night," She said. I picked her up, cradling her in my arms and carrying her to the bathroom. "You gotta brush your teeth, bambina," I said, setting her on the countertop while I squeezed the bubblegum flavored toothpaste onto her toothbrush. I gently placed her down on the small step stool she had to reach the sink and I held onto her so she wouldn't fall. She brushed her teeth quickly, grabbing one of the small paper cups and filling it with water. Her face was smeared with toothpaste and saliva and I sighed, wiping it off with my thumb and rinsing it in the sink.

"Come on, angel. Time for bed." I picked her up again, carrying her to her room. "No, I wanna sleep in Dada's room." She said. I knew there was no use in arguing with her. She was stubborn and would not give up until she got to sleep in my room. I opened the door to my room, setting her down on my bed. "I'm gonna change into my P.J's, okay? I'll be right back." I said, going to my dresser and pulling out an old t-shirt and a pair of boxers before I went into my bathroom.

I returned back to my room after I was dressed and my teeth were brushed. Haven was curled up in the middle of my large bed, her dark hair splayed out across my dark pillows. I crawled into bed next to her, moving her small body over to the side so that I had some room. She whined softly and cuddled closer to me, pressing her small head to my chest. I kissed the top of her head, pulling the covers over the both of us. I heard Haven's breathing even out and she stopped moving around so much. I fell asleep not too long after her.

  ❀  

Gerard and I were at our usual spot, sharing a cigarette and talking quietly when a woman with a young girl passed us. "Mommy! That man has colors on his hands!" The child said, pointing at me. Her mother hushed her, flashing me an apologetic smile. "It's not nice to point, Laura." I smiled. "It's okay." The little girl ran up to me, despite her mother's protests. "How did you get the colors on your hands?" She asked. I passed the cigarette to Gerard and crouched down slightly so that I was at her level. "These are tattoos. They're like pictures on your skin forever." I said. She tilted her head and tapped my knuckle with her index finger. "What's dis say?" She asked. "Halloween. It's my favorite holiday  _and_  my birthday." She gasped.

"That's my birthday, too!" She said. "October 31st!" I smiled. "We have the coolest birthday. Except for the people who have birthdays on Christmas." I answered. She giggled, and her mother grabbed her hand. "Say bye, Laura."

"Bye-bye!" The girl squealed at me. She must have been a little bit older than Haven. I waved at her. "Bye." I looked up at Gerard, who was staring at me in awe. "You're really good with kids." He breathed, handing me the cigarette, which was almost finished. "I should be. I have a daughter, after all." I said, taking a long drag. Gerard blinked a few times. "You have a daughter?" I nodded. "Her name's Haven. I adopted her last year."

"I'm awkward around kids. I feel like they're... judging me, or something. I don't know. I'm scared of saying something in front of them and messing them up, you know?" He asked. "Yeah, I guess. Haven's heard me swear a lot but I just had to explain that she shouldn't repeat them." I replied, blowing smoke out of my mouth and into the icy air. Gerard nodded. "So, um... c-can I have your number? You're j-just really nice and I kind of want you to be my friend because I don't have a lot of friends because I'm an art student and people think I'm weird and they avoid me and I live with my bro-brother and our two friends because nobody else goes n-near me, well, they avoid me, and-and... um... yeah." He rambled.

I smiled at him, thinking the way he tripped over his words and stuttered when he was nervous was adorable. His cheeks were flushed a bright red and he was awkwardly playing with his fingers. "Sure. Can I have your phone?" I asked, smiling at him. I could see his entire body go slack with relief and he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, handing it to me. I gave him my phone and watched his slender, small fingers tap the screen lightly before directing my attention to his phone. I entered my number and put my contact name as 'Frankie' before handing it back to him.

He gave my phone back to me and I smiled. He glanced at his phone before sighing. "I have class now. I'll talk to you later, yeah?" He asked. I nodded and he smiled before walking away. I dropped the cigarette and stepped on it before walking back to my car and driving home.

Later that night, I was splayed out on my bed reading an old issue of Kerrang and having a beer. I heard my phone buzz and I grabbed it. The screen read  _Gee_  and I smiled. I opened the message.

**FROM: GEE**

_**hey. i got back from class hours ago but i had to watch a movie w/ my bro and friends. soz i couldn't talk to u earlier** _

**FROM: YOU**

**_Hi. It's ok, I wasn't really doing anything important. Just having a beer and reading some Kerrang while Haven's asleep. Gotta take advantage of my free time lmao_ **

A few seconds later, my phone buzzed again.

**FROM: GEE**

**___lol my brother just scremeed "the power of christ compels u" at my friend lol___  **

I smirked at his double use of "lol" and "scremeed"

**FROM: YOU**

**_lmao you live with weird people. also, scremeed? is that a new word i dont know of?_**  

**FROM: GEE**

**_Shit. my fingers never wanna work ffs i stg._ **

**FROM: YOU**

**_lmao same_  **

**FROM: GEE**

**_oh so u use lmao and not lol. i see how it is._ **

**FROM: YOU**

**_you little fucker. lmao is 10x better than lol._**  

**FROM: GEE**

**_unrelated but have u seen that vine where theres a baby dool in a crib and these two kids and they start violently shaking it and the wake me up inside song starts playing_ **

**FROM: YOU**

**_what?_**  

**FROM: GEE**

**_https://youtu.be/VuOPvSHETXY_**  

I tapped on the link and watched the vine, chuckling at it softly.

**FROM: YOU**

**_lmao wtf was that_ **

**FROM: GEE**

**_art_**  

  ** _shit i gtg my friend and his boyfriend are here to fuck_**

**_theyre not fucking me or vice versa theyre coming to sleep over but they always end up fucking dw im not having a threesome_ **

**FROM: YOU**

  ** _Okay, bye. Goodnight and have fun at ur sleepover :)_  **

**FROM: GEE**

**_gn ily_**  

 I stared at the screen in shock for a few moments before getting another text. 

**FROM: GEE**

**_sHIT SORRY IM USED TO SENDING THAT TO ME MOM SHE TEXTS ME BEFORE I GO TO SLEEP SOMETIMES IM SORRY I DONT LOVE YOU_**  

**_SHIT THATS OUNDED BAD_ **

**_LIKE UR A GR8 GUY BUT LIEK IDK IM SORRY_ **

**_FUCK IM SORRY I FUCK EVERYTHIN GUP PLS DONT AHTE ME UR RLLLLY NICE AND STUFF_ **

**FROM: YOU**

**_It's okay. I dont hate you, ur too nice for me to hate u lmao. gn_ **

**FROM: GEE**

**_omg thx for not being mad i was so scared and gn_ **

 I smiled at my phone before shutting it off and plugging it in on my nightstand, finishing my beer and tossing the magazine onto the floor. I fell asleep quickly, knowing that Lindsey was gonna beat my ass tomorrow for drinking.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I made Frank a dad in this because why not. Also, I feel uncomfortable using his actual children, so I made an OC and tried to give her a decent backstory.
> 
> Max and Ruby was my shit back when I was a toddler.


End file.
